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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26135029">Reconnaissance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deleiterious/pseuds/deleiterious'>deleiterious</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, F/M, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:00:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26135029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deleiterious/pseuds/deleiterious</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't keep secrets from Shamir Nevrand. At the very least, not any secrets you care about.</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>Claudeleth, as seen through the eyes of an ally.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cyril &amp; Shamir Nevrand, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Claudeleth Chronicles: As Observed by Friends and Allies.</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Reconnaissance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearwind/gifts">wearwind</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shamir was twenty when she killed her first person. The kill was clumsy. It felt like an accident, and some part of her wished that it was. The arrow missed the Adrestian's heart, striking them in the soft flesh of their stomach. They staggered back in shock, clutching grime-covered fingers over the shaft of her arrow. Shamir heard blood roaring in her eyes. Her fingers shook mutinously as she lowered her bow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>An arrow to the heart: meant to kill a target swiftly; to bring a life to its end with merciful efficiency.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>An arrow to the stomach: meant to kill a target painfully, and slowly; to fill their last moments with absolute agony, so they beg for death.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Across the battlefield, Shamir watched with numb horror as the Adrestian soldier sank into the mud, keening like a tortured animal. Shamir struggled not to tremble.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hey," the man beside her began gently, "don't blame yourself." She drew her eyes away from the carnage to look at him. He gave her a bold, fortifying smile, offering her strength that neither of them possessed. Conscription made messy, foolish soldiers of them both. His dark blue eyes were beautiful things; brittle, glassy, and bright.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(She would remember those eyes forever.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I can't just leave them like that," Shamir croaked out brokenly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Then don't," he whispered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Behind them, the battalion leader shouted over the roar of battle to ready another volley.  She felt an ache deep in her chest. She raised her bow once more, putting the doomed Adrestian again in her sights. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She fired, and their anguished cries fell silent against the wind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the war was over, her country called it the War of Flowers. They named it after the all Dagdan bodies strewn across the land in blood-red blooms. It was the last war Shamir ever thought she'd be a part of.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course, she was wrong.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>"Surprised to see you here."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir stopped a few steps from the Cardinal's Room, turning to regard the speaker with a placid stare. "And I'm<em> not </em>surprised to see you here."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Don't get me wrong. We could use someone like you on our side." Catherine crossed her arms casually behind her head. "But why? I never took you for a loyalist."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The truth was simple, really. Shamir knew what it was like to be on the losing side of a war, bereft of love and country. She vowed to never choose the losing side ever again. Survival over faith was something Catherine would never understand. Shamir's lips twisted into a specter of a smile. "Why does it matter to you? Afraid I'm a spy for the Imperial army?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Catherine's shoulder went rigid at the thought, the good humor leaching out of her expression. "Are you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir chuckled at her seriousness. "If I was, do you really think I'd tell you?" Catherine's expression rotated somewhere between doubt and disbelief. "Relax. Claude only put me in charge of the espionage unit after an inconveniently thorough cross-examination, if that makes you feel any better."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Behind them, Shamir heard the familiar footsteps of the Duke and the commander of their army coming towards them. Claude waved at them from down the hall. Beside him, Byleth nodded her head in greeting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You two are here early," remarked Claude, about to enter the room. "The war council meeting doesn't start for another--"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir suddenly slid the tip of her boot out in front of his moving feet, and Claude pitched forward with an embarrassing yelp. Byleth's eyes widened in surprise and she caught him around the waist before he went down. Claude stared open-mouthed at Shamir from his position half to the floor and half in Byleth's arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The room hasn't been secured yet, Claude," explained Shamir. "That's why I was here early. Give me time to sweep the room before you open that big mouth of yours."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Claude coughed, then closed his open mouth. He gingerly righted himself, cheeks ruddy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Byleth absently adjusted Claude's disheveled yellow cape. "Shamir's right," said Byleth. "You do have a big mouth."</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir planted her dagger deep into the Imperial messenger's palm. They held back a scream, fresh blood flowing freely down the pitted bark of the tree they had been pinned to. Blood wept from both palms. "I'll have those names now," she drawled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ladislava," they sobbed, "it's General Ladislava. P-please, let me go."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir twisted the dagger in their right palm, and this time, they did scream. "I said <em> names </em>," she clarified.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They choked out a strangled cry. "General von Aegir."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir's eyes narrowed. "Ferdinand von Aegir?" She blinked back the flicker of recognition from her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They nodded, tears streaming down both cheeks. Shamir pulled the daggers out and they sank to their knees, clutching mutilated hands to their chest. They stared up at her. "P-please, it's all I know."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I believe you," said Shamir.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They broke into a beatific, trembling smile. She took a moment to drink it in, that rare look of hope. Shamir plunged a dagger into their heart and shoved their body down the ravine.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ah, back so soon?" Claude looked up from his maps, arching an eyebrow at her grimy appearance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She absently brushed at the stubborn days-old bloodstains on her jacket. "Ladislava and von Aegir."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Claude stilled at the familiar name. "You're sure?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Positive."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You have the movements?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She produced a blood-speckled roll of parchment from her pocket and placed it on his desk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Claude nodded slowly. "Then we will move on Myrddin."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir made to leave the room, but Claude stopped her with a look. "Shamir, thank you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's just part of the job."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His dark brows furrowed. "I know I'm asking a lot from you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Are you?" she replied. Claude stared at her retreating back with an unreadable expression on his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once, years ago, Shamir had asked him, "Is there someone you need killed?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As a young Academy student, he had startled at her question. If she were to ask again, would the answer still be no?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir glanced down at the bloodstains on her jacket. Perhaps, the answer had been yes for some time now.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>"Good work out there today, Cyril."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cyril blinked up at her, the evening's slop halfway between his mouth and the wooden bowl cupped in his scar-riddled hand. "Thanks," he replied. Cyril paused, glancing over his shoulder at Claude and Byleth across the makeshift camp. "Actually, I feel like the Professor did most of the work today."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir arched a brow at her apprentice. "What do you mean by that?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cyril leaned forward, until his shoulders hunched well over his knees. "It's almost as if the Professor knew we were going to be ambushed. She wiped out the reinforcements before our battalion could regroup."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir peered across several campfires to the main tent, where Claude and Byleth were currently seated among the rest of the Golden Deer generals. Byleth nodded at a remark Lysithea made, and then turned to Claude for his response. Shamir shoveled the rations into her empty mouth without hesitation, chewing quickly as if the food would disappear if she took too long. "You're not the first person who's told me something like that," she replied finally.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cyril shook his head with a pensive set to his lips. "Maybe the Professor really is blessed by the Goddess."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir chuckled at the mere thought. "I wouldn't go that far."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cyril craned his neck over his shoulder in time to catch Byleth dipping out of the main tent to retire for the evening. He shifted his gaze slightly to the left, his warm brown eyes nearly red in the glow of the campfire.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir followed them, her eyes settling squarely onto the back of Claude's head. "You look at him a lot."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What?" barked Cyril, eyes widening comically.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You look at Claude a lot." Shamir shrugged. "Just something I noticed. It's fine if you fancy him, but--"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>Fancy </em> him?" Cyril spluttered, his face twisting into a sudden look of horror and disgust, as if she'd suggested he kiss a three-headed toad. "That's not it at <em> all</em>!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You could do worse."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cyril's lips twitched, but he remained silent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I was joking," said Shamir, not expecting Cyril to laugh. "It's because he's Almyran too, isn't it?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cyril jumped, mouth opening in shock. "H-how did you--"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir waved a hand in Claude's general direction. "C'mon. It's obvious."</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Ten years ago, Shamir buried a blue-eyed lover in an unmarked grave on an unremarkable and thoroughly devastated island nation. She had shoveled fistfuls of rock and dirt with her bare hands until they bled raw over the shallow mound. Going to war beside someone too precious to lose was the worst mistake she had ever made.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a mistake Shamir never expected the Ashen Demon to make.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Shamir!" Byleth roared. "Shoot them down!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a desperate crackle of panic in her commander's voice, unlike anything she'd ever heard. Blinking back a brief flutter of shock, Shamir aimed and fired at the enemy's mounted wyvern, the tip of her arrow splitting open the creature's throat. There was a scream as it went down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir realized the scream did not come from the enemy rider. The scream was Byleth's.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What Shamir saw in that moment defied all understanding. The wyvern as it fell was white, its rider gilded in gold. She had only ever laid eyes on one white wyvern.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Claude-- </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She blinked, and suddenly the vision in white was gone. Collapsed on the ground was a common brown wyvern, its black-armored rider crushed to death beneath it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Shamir jerked her head over her shoulder to Byleth, no one else was looking at her. Had no one else heard her petrified scream? It had cut through the night like a clap of thunder. Byleth's face was twisted in world-ending grief. Shamir recognized that look.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The look of watching someone you love die right before your eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir felt the air leave her lungs all at once. Memories cut her open like a knife. Hot rivulets of blood spilling over her fingers and his as she uselessly pressed at the gushing wound. Her choked cries for him to <em> stay, stay here, please</em>. The scream when he had slipped away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Shamir?" called Cyril, as if from very far away. "We got the last of them. Are you...okay?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She swayed, a cold sweat in her palms. Shamir shook herself. "I'm fine," she replied. "What about Byleth?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What? The Professor?" Cyril sounded puzzled. "She's fine."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Across the field, Byleth's expression had transformed from grief into relief. Claude landed his gleaming white wyvern next to her and leapt off. He was grinning, likely remarking on the ease of their victory. Even from here, Byleth looked, for all the world, like she wanted to pull him into an embrace. Instead, she squeezed his shoulder with a tight, controlled smile. Claude gently placed his gloved hand over hers, leaning toward her like a flower to the sun. Behind them, Marianne strolled up to give them a report on casualties.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Byleth's arm dropped away from Claude's shoulder when he turned. She fisted her hands at her side as Marianne finished her report.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Byleth turned around, Shamir was staring straight at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Shamir knew a thing or two about finding people who did not want to be found.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although Byleth was martially gifted, her proficiencies did not extend to concealment. She found Byleth splitting logs far from the edge of camp, a menial task usually left to the ordinary soldier. Shamir watched as her commander brought the ancient axe down on a block of wood, snapping it in two with a satisfying crack.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So how many times have you watched him die?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Byleth's shoulders went rigid, axe stilling mid-air. After a beat, Byleth dropped the axe to the ground, turning slowly to fix her unnaturally bright eyes on Shamir. Her expression was careful. Shamir ignored the undercurrent of warning in those eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I don't need to know what you did," continued Shamir, idly counting the pile of logs between them, "or how."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Then what do you need?" replied Byleth evenly. Shamir welcomed the dangerous edge in her voice. Byleth Eisner was ever the commander.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I need you to not make mistakes," responded Shamir, not one to mollify. "We have a war to win."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And we will win it," said Byleth, eyes narrowing. "What does this have to do with him?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It has everything to do with him."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Byleth stilled, her stubborn mask chipping away at the words. A swallow bobbed down her pale throat. Her large eyes shone with defiance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Somewhere in Dadga, Shamir's lover was rotting in the ground. "War doesn't leave room for what you two have," she said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a long silence. "You're wrong."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There it was again. The look in Byleth's face that Shamir recognized in her younger, less broken self.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A fierce love that defied all logic. Love in war.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A gift fic for @wearwind's name day, written some time ago. </p>
<p>If you wanna be buddies on twitter or discord, hit me up @deleiterious. I mostly RT fanart on twitter, but sometimes I talk about my fics or future fics.</p>
<p>Finally, I've been in a serious slump so any kind words or comments are incredibly appreciated. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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